


Pour Whiskey on the Pages

by abigailmaedy



Series: The Snags [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigailmaedy/pseuds/abigailmaedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake has too much to drink after a rough night and ends up on Amy's doorstep. He tells her about his scars and she takes care of him. Following The Return and the Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour Whiskey on the Pages

Jake had a heavy sock in his top dresser drawer, filled with all of the pennies he had collected from Amy over the course of his three months back from undercover. He hadn’t counted the contents in a while but once he did and he had enough, he was gonna buy a pizza from Sal’s new place. Jake smiled down at the sock, tipping back a bit and catching himself on the edge of his dresser, beer sloshing in his other hand. “Shit.” He laughed, grabbing the sock and tossing it up into the air, only to miss on the catch and watch it hit the floor. He shut the drawer, leaning against it for a moment, head resting on the top of his dresser, before bending awkwardly to grab the mock coin purse. The tie he had made at the top of it had gone loose, and pennies poured all over the floor. Jake groaned, swallowing what was left of his beer (he had lost count of how many he’d had) and set it down next to the sea of coins. He meandered clumsily back to his kitchen for another drink, only to find that he was all out. “No.” He whined, drawing out the word. 

He rummaged through the cabinet above his stove until he stumbled across a half-empty bottle of apple bourbon. “Ha!” He uncapped the bottle, taking a swig and gagging. “Amy’s stupid gross whiskey.” He slurred, another down the hatch.  _ I miss her.  _ He eyed his keys, which were resting on the edge of his counter. “Too drunk to drive.” He sighed, collecting his phone and house keys, then threw his jacket on inside-out.

It didn’t take long for him to hail a cab and make his way towards Amy’s apartment, bourbon sloshing in the bottle. He took another gulp, groaning at the taste. “Dude, if you puke in my cab-” The driver started.

“Don’t worry. I’m a,” Jake burped. “Pro drinker.”

“Whatever.” He murmured.

The drive was incredibly fast to Jake’s grossly intoxicated brain, and he was clutching the seat by the time the car stopped in front of Amy’s. “I should arrest you for speeding.” Jake said sternly, paying the guy and hobbling out onto the sidewalk. He searched his key ring several times before finding the small gold key that would let him into his girlfriend’s building, hoisting open the heavy metal door and practically crawling up the stairs to her apartment.

He was proud to say he only tripped a few times on the way up. By the time he reached her place, he was out of energy and had opted to lean on the door and knock against it until it was answered. He could hear her footsteps nearing from inside and continued to knock, a grin plastered on his face. He took another gulp of the bourbon, heart skipping a beat as the door opened and he fell onto his back, what was left of the bottle’s contents pouring onto the floor. Jake landed with a grunt and laughed far too loudly for two o’clock in the morning. Amy was standing over him, brows knitted in concern. “Hey there, my beautiful p-p- Amy!” Jake stuttered, deciding ‘partner’ was too difficult a word. “I know I’m breaking the not-too-many-nights-over rule, but you said if I was feeling a little untethered,” Jake hiccuped. “To tell you.”

“Jake, you’re completely wasted.” Amy groaned, squatting down and hoisting up her stinky, drunk boyfriend. “You’re supposed to call me  _ before  _ you lose it.” 

“Whoops.” Jake giggled, leaning against her and kissing her cheek.

“Okay there, come on.” Amy rolled her eyes, supporting his weight and shutting the door, making a mental note to go back to the bourbon mess. “What happened?”    


“So much.” Jake laughed. It was a high-pitched, hysterical sound and Amy winced. 

She stopped in the middle of her living room and looked up at Jake, whose arm was slung over her shoulder. “Where to? Couch, bed, or bath?” 

“Oh.” Jake grinned. “Bath. I wanna be  _ naked. _ ” He kissed her again and she sighed, pulling him along through her bedroom and towards the bathroom. 

“How much have you had to drink?” Amy asked, pushing Jake down onto the closed toilet seat and bending down to take off his shoes. “Take off your jacket, Jake.”

Jake shrugged, peeling his jacket off one arm at a time. “How many beers were in my fridge when you came over yesterday?”

Amy’s eyes popped open. “Ten! Jake, you drank  _ ten  _ beers and all of that bourbon?” 

“Oh.” Jake shook his head, “No. The bourbon was half full. Half empty.” 

Amy rose to her feet, tossing Jake’s socks and shoes out of the bathroom, and helped him pull off his T-shirt. “Jake, you need to tell me before you get like this. What if I wasn’t home? And, Jesus.” She glanced at his chest. “How many shirts do you have on?” She helped peel off the one that had been hidden beneath the first.

“Three.” Jake dangled the keys he still had in-hand. “And I’d wait for you.” 

Amy had given Jake the keys to her apartment after they had been together a month, when he’d found himself in the neighborhood after leaving his place for a long walk that had ended in a panic attack. She hadn’t woken to his knocks until he was a hyperventilating mess on her welcome mat. 

“I haven’t seen you get this bad in months.” Amy hoisted Jake to his feet and helped him pull off his pants and climb clumsily into the empty tub. “What happened?” 

She turned on the faucet and cold water began to pour down onto Jake’s toes, which his numb body barely seemed to register. “I got stuck.” He said, staring down at his feet. 

      Amy sat down and tested the water as  it grew hotter. “What do you mean?” 

“I-” Jake paused. “I was watching Die Hard, and I got up to grab a beer. And I had to pee. But when I got there, I didn’t have a shirt.” 

“You needed a shirt to go pee?” Amy raised a brow. 

“No.” Jake rolled his eyes. “I went pee and then I-” Jake hiccupped again. Amy stood and grabbed the cup she kept beside the sink, filling it with water. “I was looking at myself.” His cheeks, which were already pink, darkened to a scarlet and realization dawned on Amy. 

“Oh, you got stuck staring at your scars.” She smiled sadly at him, handing him the glass of water as she sat back down, and reached for his hand, which he gladly offered. “Jake-”

“I can never take my shirt off with the squad again.” Jake frowned, staring down at his chest. “Too much happened.” 

Amy heaved a sigh, glancing at the map of those six months undercover that Jake’s body had become. “Will you tell me about them?” Amy gave his hand a squeeze. 

He stared at her, eyes big and tired, mouth a little slack and face flushed. Finally, he nodded. “Will I get a penny?” 

“I’ll do you one better, a penny for every scar.” She offered him a nod and his face lit up just a little. 

“I can finally buy the pizza.” He whispered. “Okay. Point to one.”  __

There were so many different lines, bumps, and divots. She ran her fingers across his chest and he gulped. “What about all of the millions of tiny ones?” She asked, opening her palm and pressing it flat against him. There were large scars, sure, but there was also an endless array of tiny, nearly-identical knicks covering his entire chest. 

Jake stared down, pointing to them. “These?” She nodded. “I got into a fight with a guy, for Leo.” Jake expanded his arms and smacked into the shower wall with a wince. “Big guy. We were in this little- thing. An outdoor thing.” 

“A yard?” 

“Closed in, though.” He cupped his hands together and Amy smirked. 

“A courtyard?” 

“A courtyard.” He nodded, head bobbing. “He pushed me through a glass door and the glass.” He poked at the little dots. “Made little scars.” 

“Ouch.” Amy crinkled her nose. “And this one?” She pointed to a larger scar just beneath his right collarbone, raised and white and spreading about an inch and a half horizontally. 

“A client,” Jake took a deep breath, leaning his head against the tile wall behind him. “A client for one of Leo’s girls roughed her up.” Jake pinched his eyes shut. “But Leo didn’t like that because it cost him money when she couldn’t work. So he sent me to to...” Jake opened his eyes and stared at Amy. “Don’t hate me.” 

“I won’t.” She whispered. 

“The FBI is more lenient about murder than the NYPD.” Jake stared down at his lap, the warm water up to his belly button. He made a small splash with his fingertips. “Initiation for the Family has two parts. You have to take a beating and you have to do a hit.” Jake’s lips were flat and his hands were starting to shake. 

“It’s okay, Jake. This is good. You won’t have to keep it in anymore.” Amy reassured. She pressed her lips to his closest palm. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Jake shook his head. “I thought I could get away with just getting close. If I could just beat him to a pulp, maybe Leo would be duped. I thought the guy was disarmed and I had been hitting him awhile. I thought he was knocked out but he came at me. I had to- I had to.” Jake shuddered. “He got me in the collar, but I got him in the chest. I never wanted to hurt anybody, Amy.” Jake’s eyes were big and glistening. “My handler gave me a pat on the back and said I’d done my job. It wasn’t intentional. I never wanted to be a killer, Ames” Jake stared at her, eyes wide and expectant.  

“I trust you.” Amy smiled. “I believe you.” 

Jake heaved a sigh. “My handler said the same thing.” 

Over the course of the night, Amy would point to a scar, and Jake would describe it. Sometimes with ease, other times with breaks in his voice and nails digging into his palms. They were from fights with opposing mobsters and criminals, mostly. As the soldier, it was his job. It was also sometimes his job to take the brunt of Leo’s frustrations, as was the case with the cigarette burns on his shoulder and a small scar just above his belly button where Leo’s ring had caught him in a punch. He sobered as he talked and Amy continuously brought him glasses of water and food. She was patient and telling her about the markings became easier and easier for him. 

A few, however, would not be easy to say no matter how much time passed; He had identical scars lining the bottoms of his ribs, mirroring each other. They splayed out, shot up and across his skin like branches of a tree. They could have been beautiful. “Car battery.” Jake had said. “Part of initiation.” The statements were short. 

His body had become a readable page to Amy, who was prepared to ask about the whip lashes on his back when he beat her to it. “I was caught up by the Irish family. They wanted information. They didn’t get it before some of the guys showed up and pulled me out. I was never really sure if the thing was staged to see if I was trustworthy.” 

Amy closed her eyes to suppress the burning. “How long were you trapped?” 

Jake shrugged. “A couple days?” 

“When?” 

Jake looked at her. Her eyes were still closed, head down so he couldn’t see the rest of her face. “The second week.” 

The whip lashes had always been the hardest thing for Amy to look at over the course of the months she’d been dating Jake, the way they splayed mercilessly across his skin, rippling with what few truly defined muscles he had. They always danced when he moved his shoulder blades, and she couldn’t help but imagine how it had been to heal from that, to lay on his stomach every night, even though he was a back-sleeper, and to feel those cuts stretch and open every time he twisted, walked, or moved his arms. She could see it in her head, the way the blood must have run-

“I love you.” She whispered, lifting her head to look at him again. Her lip was quivering and he raised a brow. 

“Ames, do you need a penny?” Jake asked, his voice soft and most of the drunken drawl dissipated by the hot bath and loads of water. 

"No," She chuckled, wiping her eyes. “I just love you, so much.” She tasted salt on her lips and he smiled sheepishly at her. 

“I love you too.” He leaned across the tub, bath water rocking and splashing, and kissed her, his hands in her thick hair. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” She whispered against his lips. “You’re worth so much Jake. You can always come over before you end up alone like tonight.” 

Jake sighed. “I’ve just done a lot of bad stuff. I kinda feel like I have to be angry by myself sometimes.” 

“But you’re a good man. You did that stuff because you had to.” She ran her fingers up into his hair and then down his back, caressing every bump and line until Jake stopped stiffening.

“People are still dead, Amy. I’m a cop that killed people.” Jake pressed tighter against her, his fingers almost pulling her hair. 

“Bad, bad people. For the good of everyone else.” Amy shrugged. “Sounds less like an evil villain and more like a certain Die Hard character with seventy-three kills under his belt, if you ask me.” 

“I didn’t kill  _ that  _ many people.” Jake’s grip loosened on her and she smiled. 

“So you’re saying John McClane is still more of a badass than Jake Peralta?” She kissed his cheek. 

“Oh yeah, I will  _ never  _ be that cool.” He scoffed. “Also you know it makes you horny when you talk Die Hard to me, so that’s a little unfair.” 

Amy pulled away from him and raised a brow. Jake’s smile was sheepish and the flush was still in his face. He didn’t seem to notice that the bath water had gone cold.  _ He’s still tipsy. Not tonight.  _  “Does it also make you tired? Because it’s 4:30 in the morning.” 

Jake sighed, reaching down to the drain of the tub and flipping the little metal switch that letter the water out. “I think sleep can be arranged.” 

“And you’re really feeling better?” Amy asked, resting her hand on his.

“I am. I swear. Thousand push-ups.” He grinned. 

Amy rolled her eyes, offering Jake a hand and a towel as she stood. “That doesn’t count with me, and I don’t see Roza anywhere.” 

Jake chuckled. “That would be a fun threewa-” 

Amy punched him in the arm before he could finish, exiting back to her room and crawling into bed. “Come on horndog, time for bed!” She called, a smile on her face. 

Jake exited the bathroom in nothing but his boxers a moment later, and crept past her to the living room. She listened with confusion as he rummaged around beneath the kitchen sink, a smile breaking across her face as the sound of the floor spray being pumped from the bottle sounded in the apartment with repetitive squeaks.  _ The bourbon.  _ A moment later, glass clanked against glass as Jake tossed the empty bottle in the garbage and he soon returned smelling slightly of housecleaner. “Thanks.” Amy whispered as he crawled into bed, tucking himself up against her and relaxing into her touch as she traced the scars that she had memorized. “At the risk of saying it too much, I love you.” 

Jake pulled her in tighter, kissing her jaw and rubbing the skin between her night shirt and bottoms with warm fingertips. “I love you, too, Ames.” 

Jake didn’t dream that night, and neither did Amy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is it for The Snags, I believe! I have been so honored to receive so many positive comments and kudos on these pieces and I hope you guys like this final, short installment!


End file.
